The Broken One

by Cardello, Ruth

A short time later the ring of my doorbell had me sliding out from beneath a cuddly Ava to answer it. I dreaded how I looked—still in pajamas with my hair probably sticking up in every direction. What could I do? There hadn’t yet been time for me to think about how I looked.

  Thankfully, it was only Teri. She’d stopped by the pharmacy and gotten everything from Pedialyte to an assortment of children’s fever medicine. I laughed when she accused me of trying to get her sick too with a hug.

  I was still smiling when I settled back onto the couch with Ava. It wasn’t that I’d needed the supplies, but I was moved by her concern for my child.

  I was lucky to have good people in my life who cared about me and my family. I told myself to focus on that rather than the disappointment I’d felt when I hadn’t heard anything from Sebastian.

  I ran a hand lightly over Ava’s hair and tried to imagine how I would feel if I’d lost not only my partner but also my unborn child. I wouldn’t be all smiles either.

  Still, I shouldn’t have bought into Erica’s romanticized version of our meeting. Although I would deny it if anyone asked, a part of me had wanted it to be true. I’d imagined him munching on Erica’s cookies, thinking of me while mustering the courage to call.

  Disappointment is a by-product of unrealistic expectations.

  Unrealistic expectations are unhealthy.

  I might feel hurt, but that was on me.

  He could not have been clearer about how he felt.

  I tried to push him out of my thoughts, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how different he’d looked in his honeymoon photos compared to the brusque man who’d filled my doorway. A tragedy like he’d experienced changed someone forever. I still missed Brenda. As I rubbed Ava’s back, I shuddered at the thought of who I would become if I ever lost her.

  Stop.

  Horrible things happen to people every day. I couldn’t carry the weight of all their pain with me or live in fear that it would happen to me.

  I wasn’t a stranger to sadness or loss. My childhood had contained enough of it to give me a real empathy for anyone experiencing either. I refused, though, to let those dark thoughts pull me down. I’d worked too hard to make a new life for myself.

  Sad from something you saw in the news?

  Not sure what to do with those feelings?

  Do something good for someone—anyone. You can’t help everyone, but you can make someone’s day a little easier.

  Okay, maybe I’ve read too many self-help books, but before them I was lost and angry.

  I made a modest online donation to a children’s hospital. No, it wasn’t the kind of donation they’d make a plaque for, but it made me feel better. My child only had a slight fever. There were parents out there dealing with much more, and every little bit helped keep programs funded for them.

  Ava woke up. I took her temperature again—no change. Fluids. Light lunch. Then she wanted to play with her dolls, which I took as a good sign.

  When my phone rang, I answered without even looking at the caller ID. It was either Erica or Teri. “She still has a fever. Looks like I’ll be working from home again tomorrow.”

  “It’s Sebastian Romano.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” I smoothed a hand over my wild hair even though he couldn’t see it. “Hello.”

  “Are you sick?” Only he could voice that question without a hint of warmth.

  “Me? No. Ava woke up with a fever this morning, but it’s nothing.”

  “How high?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How high is her fever? Have you contacted her doctor?”

  His questions weren’t offensive, but his tone was. Arrogant. Demanding. Like I wouldn’t know how to care for my own daughter.

  Was this how he spoke to his employees? If so, I couldn’t imagine many of them liked him.

  You’re wrong about him, Erica. I don’t need this in my life. “Although I appreciate your concern, I have the situation under control. Was there something you wanted?”

  He was silent long enough that I considered ending the call.

  “I wanted to thank you for the cookies. They were delicious.” When he finally spoke his voice was deeper, closer to the one that had inspired decadent thoughts of him growling sexy demands into my ear.

  Whoosh, my body was humming. I poured myself a glass of cold water and considered pouring it over my head. “You’re welcome.”

  “And to apologize. I was in a sour mood and should not have taken it out on you.”

  I leaned forward on the counter, rolling the glass across my forehead. I enjoyed audiobooks and spent endless hours listening to male voices—some even reading steamy scenes I hoped Ava never found on my Kindle—without ever feeling as turned on as I was just by listening to him. And he’d barely spoken so far.

  What was wrong with me?

  “You’re forgiven and you’re welcome,” I said in a husky voice.

  There was another pause . . . long enough for my heart to start beating wildly in my chest and for me to begin to believe he was just about to ask me out. No. No. No. Hadn’t I just decided he wasn’t for me?

  I held my breath and waited.

  If he asked me out . . . what would I say?

  I should say no.

  I wanted to say yes.

  If I kept him separate from Ava, agreeing to a dinner would be harmless.

  Right?

  If that led to a night of hot sex . . . I could pay a babysitter to stay over . . . and didn’t I deserve a little of what my body was craving . . . at least once this decade?

  “Good,” he said simply.

  Another pause. Was he hoping I would ask him out? Was he waiting for some kind of sign that I liked him? “It was incredibly nice of you to deliver Wolfie yourself.”

  Nothing.

  No one could accuse him of talking too much.

  Across the room Ava met my gaze with glassy eyes. The bright pink to her cheeks hadn’t been there before. I walked over and touched her arm. It was warm—a lot warmer than it had been. Shit.

  “Sebastian? Thanks for calling, but I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong?” His tone was intense again.

  “Ava’s fever is spiking. I need to check it again, start her on some Motrin, and maybe call the doctor back.”

  “Go take her temperature. I’ll wait.”

  My mouth rounded in surprise. He sounded serious. I almost brushed him off, but remembered he’d lost a wife and child. Even though he didn’t know us, hearing that Ava was sick might have struck a chord with him. “She’s fine. Trust me, this is not our first fever.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “It’ll take me a few minutes.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Feeling a little ridiculous, I put my phone on the counter and went to retrieve the thermometer. One hundred one. I poured her a cup of water, gave her some Motrin, and settled her into her bed for a nap. I didn’t expect him to still be there when I picked my phone back up. “Sebastian?”

  “How is she?”

  “It was higher than this morning. One hundred one. Still nothing to panic about. I’ll see if my doctor has an opening today. Right now she’s napping.”

  “If her doctor won’t see her, you need to find another doctor.”

  Deep breath. His tone is harsh because he’s worried. “She has a wonderful pediatrician. Really, there’s no reason for you to be concerned. After what you’ve been through, it’s natural to be—”

  “What I’ve been through?” His tone went ice cold.

  I cringed. “All I’m trying to say is that I understand why you’d be worried, but she’s not in any danger.”

  “You know about my wife.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes. My friend googled you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” And this is why I’m single. I’m too honest.

  “You read a few articles, and now you think you know me?”

  So angry. I felt sorry for him because I
knew he hadn’t always been that way. “I don’t know you, but I do know what it’s like to lose someone. It doesn’t excuse bad behavior, though. I’m a good mother. I don’t have to prove myself to you. I don’t require your approval. If you’re looking for someone who will tiptoe around your moods, that’s not me. I’m home today with a sick child. I’ll probably be home with her tomorrow with a very real likelihood of no sleep tonight. So sorry if I’m not up to flirting or sparring with you, but I have more important things on my mind.” I ended the call and tossed my phone on the counter.

  Sex was overrated anyway.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  * * *

  SEBASTIAN

  Once again her response had been completely appropriate. My only problem with what she’d said was that it made me face my contribution to our exchanges.

  My family was right—the past still had a stranglehold on me. I told myself it didn’t, but my conversation with Heather had shot that claim to hell.

  I didn’t normally speak to women as if they didn’t know what they were doing—especially not one I was interested in. Usually I brought them pleasure, they brought me pleasure, we both moved on. I didn’t struggle to find the right words or second-guess how I behaved.

  I couldn’t understand why it was different with Heather.

  Because she had a child?

  It felt like more than that.

  I left my office early, deciding to drive myself to be alone with my thoughts. I wasn’t surprised when I found myself somewhere I usually only went once a year—my wife’s grave.

  I laid my hand on top of her stone and closed my eyes. Five years, Therese. I’m still as sorry today as I was the day I lost you. You wanted to have a child right away, but I convinced you to wait. It’s my fault you never held our child, never had a chance to comfort or scold it. I thought we had more time . . .

  My family wants me to move on. I don’t want to.

  But holding on is turning me into someone I don’t recognize.

  Someone you wouldn’t have loved.

  I blinked back tears.

  You deserved better than I gave you. So much better.

  If I could trade places with you—I would.

  If I could go back and do that day over . . . do our marriage over . . . I would do so many things differently.

  I went to my knees and sat back on my heels.

  What do you want from me, Therese?

  I don’t know.

  I’ve been with women since you—do you hate me for it?

  None of them mattered.

  Heather’s image danced in my thoughts.

  She has the potential to.

  I don’t know if that’s a good thing or the ultimate betrayal of our vows.

  I loved you so much.

  I thought I was doing what was best for our family—what was best for you.

  I’m so sorry, Therese.

  Tears ran down my cheeks, and I let them. I’d fought to hold them in for too long. It felt good to let them out.

  Eventually, I used her stone to pull myself back to my feet. When I turned, I saw all three of my brothers along with my father leaning against my car. I glanced back at my wife’s grave. “They loved you too,” I said aloud.

  I know.

  It might have been my imagination, but I would have sworn on my life that she’d answered me. Was the voice in my head just an echo of a memory or a real connection to her where she was? I didn’t know, but I felt lighter when I walked toward my family. Real or imagined, I’d come in search of her permission, and I felt like I’d received it.

  “We thought you might be hungry,” Gian said, as if they hadn’t just found me bawling my eyes out.

  I nodded. “I am.”

  “Mom’s making lasagna,” Christof said while studying my expression.

  “How could I miss that?”

  My father pulled me in for a back-thumping hug, kissed my head in the way he used to when I was much younger, and said, “You’re a good boy, Sebastian. You’ll be fine.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, then looked over at Mauricio. His expression was far too serious to let it stay that way. “Stop paying people to track me.”

  He smiled, shrugged, then walked over to my car. “Better hurry or I’ll be driving.”

  “Never going to happen,” I joked as I crossed to the driver’s side. This was our familiar banter, and it calmed me.

  We all drove to my parents’ house and enjoyed a multicourse meal with spirited discussions on every topic from politics to the future of the family business. Opinions differed, voices rose, then lowered again when the heat of the moment passed.

  Just a regular meal with my family.

  No one brought up where I had gone after work.

  No one asked me about Heather.

  On a full stomach, I sat and watched my brothers argue over which team would win the World Cup. Love for them washed over me. For years I had felt a distance from them that wasn’t there. I had changed; they hadn’t. I remembered my mother saying she’d felt like she’d lost me right along with Therese, but I could come back if I wanted to.

  I finally wanted to.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * * *

  HEATHER

  Three days after I brought Ava to the doctor, I was lying on my couch with a bowl beside me. Every bit of fight in me had been expelled from my body, either into the toilet or into the sink.

  The only reason I answered my phone when it rang was because Ava was at preschool and parenting didn’t take a day off. “Hello?” I croaked.

  “Is something wrong? Is Ava okay?” Sebastian growled.

  I groaned and closed my eyes. I can’t do this right now. “Ava’s fine. All better. I caught a stomach bug from the petri dish of disease that is her pediatrician’s waiting room.”

  “Where’s Ava?”

  I didn’t have the energy to be offended. “At school. Then Erica is keeping her for the night so I can sleep this off.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  From Mr. Gorgeous while I look like roadkill? Umm. Hell no. “Thanks, but I’m all set.”

  “Do you have someone there to take care of you?”

  I groaned again. “No, but it’s for the best. I don’t want to give this to anyone.”

  “Someone should be there with you. I can be there in a little over an hour.”

  I chuckled, because if I didn’t I might cry. “No. I haven’t showered since yesterday, and I look every bit as bad as I sound. No one is seeing me like this. Especially not someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?”

  Maybe it was the fever. Maybe I was just too exhausted to care, but I said, “My hair is plastered to my head. I may have thrown up organs I’ll miss later, and I’m not done yet. If you like me at all, hang up, call me back next week, and let me pretend we never had this conversation.”

  “I’m closing down my computer now. Is there anything you don’t have? Ginger ale? Soup?”

  I shuddered at the thought of anything passing my lips. “I honestly don’t need anything.”

  “I’ll bring you something. My mother is good at knowing what works well in situations like this. I’m sure she’ll have a good idea. Will you be able to let me in?”

  My head was pounding. My stomach was churning the countdown to my next dry heave. Could I let him in? I moaned. I dropped my phone and gagged into the bowl. Nothing came up. Nothing was left inside me. That didn’t stop me from making some ungodly sounds as my body tried to expel . . . my toes, I guess?

  I fell back onto the couch. It was a moment or two before I remembered Sebastian had been on the phone. I picked it up, and because I was completely, utterly mortified, I joked, “I’ve never been good at flirting. How am I doing?”

  He made a sympathetic sound. “It’s a unique style, but I’m still coming over.”

  Whatever. There was little past survival I cared about right then. “I should shower before you get here, but I don�
��t know if I can do it.”

  “I can help you with that when I’m there.”

  I groaned again. Was it possible to be half-dead and turned on at the same time? “I don’t want the first time I shower with a man to be something I remember for the wrong reasons.”

  He was quiet for a moment, giving me long enough to replay my last words in my head and kick myself for saying them. “I wasn’t suggesting we shower together . . .”

  Oh, wait, the sound of me getting sick hadn’t inspired a fantasy of us naked in the shower? He probably hadn’t been celibate as long as I had been. I’m an idiot. “Don’t come, Sebastian. This fever has me a little delirious, I think.”

  “Do you have anyone who can come be with you?”

  Teri was holding down the office. I couldn’t risk getting her sick. Erica was watching Ava for me. “No,” I admitted, closing my eyes.

  “Then I’m on my way.”

  I wanted to sleep, but I pushed myself up in a seated position. If Sebastian was coming over, there was no way I wasn’t going to clean up before he arrived. I stumbled to the shower, stood beneath the hot spray long enough to endure another round of dry heaving, then pulled on checkered pajama bottoms with a buttoned-up top. Teeth brushed, hair still wet, I lay down on the couch for a moment. I told myself it was just for a second. I intended to clean up the living room a little before he arrived, but when I closed my eyes, I fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until I heard my doorbell.

  Light-headed, I made my way to the door. After opening it, I tried for bravado by putting a hand on one hip and saying, “Well, this is what’s left of me.”

  He stepped inside and placed a grocery bag on the floor. “You’re all wet,” he said like a parent discovered their child misbehaving.

  I closed the door and swayed on my feet. “I couldn’t let you see me the way I was.” I turned, stepped on the hem of my pajama bottoms, and would have gone careening to the floor if he hadn’t caught me.

  As if I weighed nothing at all, he swung me up into his arms and strode toward the living room.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and settled my head on his shoulder. “This is just like in the movies, except you’re probably hoping I don’t throw up on you.”